


Objectively

by werewolvesandarrows (nerdy_farm_girl)



Series: Birthday Fics [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Canon, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 16:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5672761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdy_farm_girl/pseuds/werewolvesandarrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles shifts in his seat, knees and shins aching, skin sticky with sweat. It’s too hot and he’s too tall for this kind of nonsense. And too old probably, but he doesn’t really want to get into the whole maturity level thing. That’s a battle he will <i>always</i> lose.<br/>Always.<br/>And besides, there’s worse places to be stuck than crammed in the very back seat of an SUV between two illegally hot werewolves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Objectively

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kristsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristsune/gifts).



> Written for the lovely Kris' birthday! I hope you enjoy it dear!
> 
> [Banna](http://braedens.tumblr.com/) also prompted me "Mchaleinski + "you spoil me" + "your skin is so soft right now", and per usual I have gone in a completely ridiculous direction with these two prompts.

Stiles shifts in his seat, knees and shins aching, skin sticky with sweat. It’s too hot and he’s too tall for this kind of nonsense. And too old probably, but he doesn’t really want to get into the whole maturity level thing. That’s a battle he will _always_ lose. Always.

And besides, there’s worse places to be stuck than crammed in the very back seat of an SUV between two illegally hot werewolves.

Being squished up against Scott is something he’s more than used to, and plenty comfortable with. They’ve been on their fair share of school bus rides and family vacations and werewolf related weirdness that being pressed together from the knee to shoulder shouldn’t really phase either of them. But, because there’s always a _but_ when it comes to Stiles’ life, there’s a new challenge when as of late he can’t stop thinking about Scott. And not just like, wondering how he is, or planning their next game night kind of thing. No, he’s _thinking_ about Scott, daydreaming, fantasizing, wondering how Scott’s skin would feel beneath his tongue. It’s always been there, this simmering desire to just be _everything_ for Scott. He wasn’t lying back in high school when he told Scott that the whole heroism thing was turning him on. Unfortunately, Scott’s propensity for heroics hasn’t exactly diminished, and even though it pisses Stiles off 95% of the time, it still gets him all hot and bothered. And makes him love Scott even more. Which is a whole other animal.

Just like the _other_ unfairly attractive werewolf sitting on his other side.

Derek is… _Derek_. Stiles blames the majority of his bisexual awakening on this motherfucker, who stormed into his life with a scowl and lots of growling and left him with a boner and a need to punch something. But Derek doesn’t growl so much anymore, and he usually only scowls whenever Stiles annoys him, or when something threatens the pack. He came back from a couple years of traveling and presumably kicking ass with Braeden more zen than ever, with the softest looking beard Stiles has ever seen and an almost smile on his face.

It’s kind of weird, watching how well Scott and Derek just click now. They talk all the time, texting and like for real talking. Stiles would know, since he had to listen to it _every_ night in the dorm room he and Scott shared sophomore year. It makes him inexplicably jealous. Maybe it’s because he and Scott have always just _got_ each other, until senior year of high school when everything fell apart. Sometimes it feels like Scott’s always replacing him, always finding someone else who just fits better. Stiles knows better, knows that Scott doesn’t _want_ to have that with anyone else. But sometimes it seems like Scott deserves it, like maybe Scott needs a _better_ friend than Stiles could ever hope to be.

“Hey, you okay?” Scott’s arm slides down the back of the seat to settle around Stiles’ shoulder, his thumb rubbing soft circles against his bare arm. Stiles nods and forces a smile, leaning slightly into Scott’s side. Even in this too hot car filled with too many people, Scott’s presence is enough to soothe him, steady and bright, just like the red glow of his eyes. Stiles sighs a little, shifting his lower half in the opposite direction so he can lean against Scott’s chest. Something inside of him settles, and all at once the world rights itself again.

Except Derek’s watching them.

Stiles can feel it, that particular prickle on the back of his neck that means a Hale’s eyes are on him. He cuts his gaze to Derek, surprised at what he finds there.

Longing.

That’s the only way to describe the look on Derek’s face. It’s in the slight sadness of his eyes and the gentle curve of his mouth, in the way he looks quickly away when Stiles catches his gaze. Stiles isn’t sure what to make of it.

Is Derek _jealous_? Does he want to be in Stiles’ place, leaning up against Scott so easily? Stiles wouldn’t blame him in the slightest. Pretty much _everyone_ wants Scott, so it’s not exactly a new thing. Maybe Stiles should offer to switch seats with one of them the next time Lydia deems it appropriate for them to have a pit stop (if they were allowed to stop every time someone was hungry/had to pee/needed to stretch their legs, they’d probably still be in Beacon Hills. Lydia was deemed the only person reasonable enough to determine when a stop was actually needed). There could be something there, something _more_ between Scott and Derek that Scott just hasn’t told him about. He’s seen the way they look at each other, the way Scott smiles at his phone when he gets a text from Derek. And Derek lights up whenever Scott compliments him, as if he lives for it. Stiles had just assumed it was an alpha/beta thing, but maybe it’s just a Scott/Derek thing.

He wouldn’t be _mad_. He’d probably be jealous, though of which one he’s not sure. Both werewolves are hotter than the sun, and he’s spent more than his fair share of time thinking about just kissing either of them. But now he’s thinking about them kissing each other, how Scott could probably lift Derek up and pin him against a wall, how Scott might bare his neck to Derek, let him lick and suck and bite.

“Your skin is so soft right now,” Scott murmurs, all five of his fingers trailing lightly over Stiles’ bicep. Stiles blinks and tries to push all those errant thoughts from his mind, trying to think of _anything_ else to make his boner disappear.

Instead he gets Derek’s hand joining Scott’s on his arm.

This is the exact opposite of a boner killer.

“Huh,” Derek hums, staring intently at his own fingers as they brush over the curve of Stiles’ bicep down to the crook of his elbow. The softness of Derek’s hands never fails to surprise him. He looks like some sort of lumberjack - greasy mechanic - model hybrid who should have calloused, working man hands or whatever. But with the whole werewolf healing cheat code nonsense, it’s the exact opposite. It’s fascinating.

And also slightly erotic.

Stiles _cannot_ deal with two different hands _rubbing_ all over him right now. Like no. Not unless every werewolf in this vehicle wants to smell exactly how far he’s ventured into boner city. And really, Liam’s already suspiciously sniffing the air in the seat in front of him even though he should know better at this point.

“Wow,” Stiles laughs nervously, sitting up straight in order to lessen the amount of contact between him and well, _everyone_. “Is it Pet Stiles Day? You guys spoil me!”

Judging by the look on Scott’s face, that did not sound anywhere near normal. ‘Pet Stiles Day’ is far from his best work, to be honest. But having _two_ hot guys with their hands on _him_ , when he was just ~~fantasizing~~ thinking about them _kissing_ , doesn’t exactly create an environment for higher brain function. His poor brain is basically short circuiting right now, and the fact that Lydia keeps smirking at him in the rear view mirror isn’t helping anything. Like how can she even _know_? She’s driving. Just because they had a slightly tipsy heart to heart that one time where he _may_ have recited a poem about the amazingness that is Scott and Derek’s asses, doesn’t mean she _knows_ things. She doesn’t know anything.

Who is he kidding, Lydia _always_ knows everything.

 _Always_.

It’s creepy.

“Are you sure you’re okay dude?” Scott repeats, his whole palm now pressing against Stiles’ arm. Stiles is about to tell Scott that everything is _absolutely fine_ , hopefully without his voice cracking, when Derek’s big hand lands solid on his thigh, stilling it. Yeah. He is _not_ okay. Houston we have a problem.

Lydia’s downright grinning at him every time she glances in the rearview, sharing conspiratorial glances with Mason in the passenger seat.

“Lydia watch the road instead of me,” Stiles snarls, hoping to at least deflect some attention away from himself. He thinks it might work, Kira looks worried and Malia is leaning up into the front seat and Scott and Derek both have their 404 NOT FOUND expressions on. But then Lydia puts on the blinker and all of a sudden they’re pulling into a gas station.

“We need to get gas, and Mason is hungry.” She practically simpers at him in the rearview, but even his annoyance isn’t enough to distract himself from the fact that certain people are _still_ touching him. STILL.

Lydia hasn’t even put the car in park before Stiles is scrambling over the seat, probably kneeing Malia in the gut and possibly getting Liam in the balls as he tries to make his escape. He just needs room to _breathe_ for a minute, without being surrounded by an infuriating mix of hot and annoying at all times.

He heads for the picnic tables off to the side of the parking lot, muttering excuses about needing to stretch his legs under his breath. Based on experience he knows he probably has five minutes max before Scott follows him over here, probably even less for Derek. He veers towards the store instead, figuring the bathroom will at least buy him some additional time.

The picnic tables are still blissfully empty when he emerges, cool water bottle clenched in one hand. He settles on top of one, leaning back on his hands and letting the warm breeze ruffle his hair.

The pack decided to take a vacation together, now that they’re all in college. They pooled their resources and figured out they could afford a cabin up in Oregon for a week, but then Derek barged in and booked it for two weeks. Not that anyone was complaining, especially since they had long ago figured out that Derek _liked_ using his money, especially for fun things. So it had only made sense to borrow Mason’s mom’s SUV and shove everyone in one vehicle, because _of course_ they all needed to be together this whole time. Right now, Stiles would give _anything_ to have the group of them spread among two cars instead. _Anything_.

“Stiles.” Scott arrives right on time, but settles onto the bench of the picnic table, actually giving him some space. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Yeah,” Stiles sighs, watching Derek try and act like he’s _not_ listening to their conversation from over by the car. It’s like fucking amateur hour over there. “I just… I don’t - I’m just getting all my _feelings_ in line, is all. So don’t like - I don’t want to make anybody uncomfortable or anything, I can take care of it, I’m better at handling unrequited feelings than I was in-”

“Wait.” Scott tilts his head, squinting into the sun. “Are you talking about your cr- um, feelings for Derek? Because I’m pretty sure that _not_ unrequited bro.”

“What? No!” Stiles regrets the words as soon as he says them, watching the way Derek flushes out of the corner of his eye. “I mean yes and no? I thought… I think Derek likes _you_. And I… I want… I’m just a little confused is all? But I won’t let it ruin our trip.”

Scott hums softly, his chin resting on his hand as he stares at Derek across the parking lot. He looks beautiful like this, basking in the sun with his arms bare and his skin glowing. There’s a part of Stiles that wants to take a picture, to capture this moment forever, so that he can never lose it. It would be the type of photograph to keep in a locket, or a wallet, or on the dash of his Jeep, something to make him smile when he’s sad. Scott’s always good for a smile.

“I like Derek too,” Scott says softly, lips lifting into a crooked smile as he looks up at Stiles. “But I also like _you_.” Stiles knows his heart stutters, feels it start back up so fast and hard that it might break right through his rib cage.

“Obviously dude, we’re best friends.” Stiles tries to brush it off, looking anywhere but at Scott. All of a sudden he’s jittery again, and he wants to run, wants to steal a car and drive until he can’t any more.

“We are,” Scott agrees, one hand curling around Stiles’ ankle, stilling him. “But I also want to kiss you sometimes.”

“I-” Stiles blinks, swallowing hard as he forces himself to meet Scott’s eyes. He seems utterly sincere, eyelashes fluttering and deep brown eyes hopeful. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Scott laughs, his fingers tightening on Stiles’ leg. “I wanna kiss Derek too, and watch _you_ kiss Derek, I think.”

There’s a grin pulling at the corners of Stiles lips, and he can’t stop it, not now. He should have _known_ that Scott would be on the same wavelength as him, probably agonizing over the same things too. “Me too,” he laughs, bending forward to cup Scott’s jaws in his hands. He waits for Scott’s answering grin before he closes the final few inches and presses their lips together.

It’s sweet and warm and easy, like everything with Scott has always been. He kisses open mouthed, like they’ve been doing this for years and just skip right over the whole closed lips thing. He kisses like he’s got something to prove. If that something is that he’s a good fucking kisser, he’s definitely proving it to Stiles alright. Stiles wants to devour him, wants to surround himself with Scott and his warmth and goodness. He wants him to be closer, with less clothes and more touching and maybe a little weed. He just _wants_.

And then he remembers the whole Derek part of this conversation.

“Wait,” he mumbles against Scott’s mouth, their noses bumping as he pulls back just slightly. “Do you think… what about… I mean, do you know how Derek feels?” He can’t help but flick his tongue across Scott’s bottom lip, tasting the energy drink they’d been sharing in the car. “I mean, you think he’d be okay with like, all of us.”

Scott just smiles that dopey little grin at the space over Stiles’ left shoulder, eyes still squinting into the sun.

“Yeah,” says a voice, always as surprisingly soft as the hands that go with it. Long fingers slide across the strap of Stiles’ tank top, dipping into the curve of his shoulder before sliding up into his hair. He leans into the touch, his own fingers still curled around Scott’s jaw. “I’m definitely okay with it.”  Derek’s lips follow the trail of sparks his fingers left, breath warm and hot against Stiles’ skin. It’s too much and not enough, and Stiles is stuck, unsure of where to go or how to move.

Scott solves the problem for him, climbing up onto the table with him and kissing him, hard and with purpose. It leaves him breathless and wide eyed, helpless to do anything but watch as Scott leans up and wraps a hand around the back of Derek’s neck. It happens in slow motion, watching the two hottest guys he’s ever known kiss, both of them still touching _him_ at the same time. He wants to know what Derek tastes like and he wants to kiss Scott again, but even more he wants to watch the way they kiss each other, the way their heads tilt and their eyelashes cast shadows on their cheeks. He can see _tongues_ and there’s quiet little moans happening and he might just come in his pants if they keep this up.

Scott’s lips are swollen and shiny when he pulls back, but he’s grinning, eyes sparkling as they flick between Stiles and Derek.

“You should kiss Stiles now,” he demands, the intended effect ruined by the little hitch to his breath when Derek almost smiles.

That almost smile soothes Stiles nerves, makes him feel a little better about Derek hopefully wanting him too. The rest of the doubt is erased the minute their eyes meet, Derek’s pupils blown wide even in the sunlight.

“Good idea,” he murmurs, sliding the hand in Stiles hair down his back to his waist. He tugs him back farther on the table, turning him so they’re more or less facing each other. “I’m surprised you’ve managed to keep your mouth shut this long.”

Stiles blinks once, twice, eyes widening as he tries to come up with some kind, any kind, of scathing retort.

“You-”

Derek’s actual grin disarms him more than the kiss that follows, which is really saying something. Derek’s lips are soft, just like his voice and his hands and his clothes. But underneath the soft is all the _hard_ , hard muscles and bone and teeth and that will to keep on keeping on that’s buried deep within him. Stiles wants it all, he wants Derek’s soft and hard, want’s Scott’s warm and easy, he wants _everything_.

 

“Oh thank _god_!”

The sound of Mason’s voice has Stiles pausing, untangling himself from Derek just enough so he can glare towards the rest of the pack. They’re all gathered around the gas pump, watching the three of them like it’s something totally normal.

“Yeah,” Malia nods, one elbow resting on Kira’s shoulder, the other on Lydia’s. “The _smell_ was getting unbearable.” They all nod in apparent agreement, and Stiles can _feel_ more than see Derek’s cheeks heating up.

“It’s rude to stare!” Stiles shouts, laughing when Scott presses his mouth to his neck. “This isn’t a free show!”

“Like anyone would _pay_ to see that,” Liam scoffs, turning away and yanking the door open with unnecessary force. “It’s like watching my parents kiss or something.”

“I’d probably pay for it-”

“Oh my god Mason, don’t start.” Lydia huffs, grabbing his arm and pulling him away. “Come on guys!” She yells over her shoulder, hair glinting in the afternoon sun. “You’ll have plenty of time to play tonsil hockey when we get there.”

“Or in the back of the car…”

Stiles can’t help but laugh at Derek’s words, throwing his head back to smile at the sky. He doesn’t miss the way both Scott and Derek breathe sharply in unison, some combination of fingers and mouths moving immediately to trace the line of his exposed throat.

The horn honks, and distantly Stiles can pick out what sounds like Malia and Liam arguing yet again about what radio station they’re going to listen to. They’ve got about four more hours before they hit the cabin, and Stiles has _plenty_ of ideas about how that time can be spent. And he’s _not_ talking about the license plate game. He grins at Scott, pleased when he finds mischief twinkling in his best friends dark eyes.

“ _Definitely_ in the back of the car.”

(It only takes half an hour before they’re forcibly split up, Derek driving with Lydia riding shotgun, Stiles with Liam and Mason and Scott in the back with Kira and Malia. Stiles figures it’s only fair, since he’s 99% sure Derek _might_ have come in his pants. So like, objectively, he can see where they’re coming from. _Subjectively_ … it was pretty damn hot).

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> feel free to come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://werewolvesandarrows.tumblr.com)


End file.
